


In the arena

by Akemichan



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Gen, Gladiator Ace, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Pre-Slash, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16220294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akemichan/pseuds/Akemichan
Summary: Gladiator: a man (and sometimes a woman), typically a slave or convicted criminal, who participated in one-on-one battles with each other, often to the death, for the entertainment of crowds of spectators in the Roman Empire.Written for the MarcoAce week





	In the arena

**Author's Note:**

> Aaah I had a lot of idea for this AU XD But not much time, so let's have a one-shot for now.

The spectators were shouting. Their words were distinct, despite the nagging noise. They filled the arena in all its volume.

Strike him. Slaughter him. Kill him.

Deuce, his foot still pressed on his opponent’s neck, turned his head a little, towards Emperor Adriano’s gallery. It was unusual for the Emperors disregarding the public’s opinion; nevertheless, it had happened before, and Deuce didn’t want to risk for such a simple mistake. Not at his first fight in Rome.

After a minute, which seemed eternal, while the spectators kept shouting, Adriano moved his hand, uninterested, thumb pointing down. Deuce nodded and consequently moved his foot: his opponent, aware of his destiny, put himself in a kneeling position, his neck fully exposed. Deuce lifted the dagger and silence climbed in the arena. Slowly, the musicians tapped the drums, increasing the tension.

“I’m sorry,” Deuce whispered, as he lowered the dagger.

The crowd’s yells became stronger, an amazed cheer of rejoicing, as blood sprinkled from the lethal wound on the neck. Deuce turned his eyes from the body as it fell on the sandy ground, his dirty sword at his side. It wasn’t his first match, but it was hard being the killer of someone you used to live together until just the day before.

He hurried to accept the olive branch from the Emperor, before leaving the arena towards the _Porta Sanavivaria_ , the door of the winner.

As soon as he reached the lower parts of the Anfiteatro Flavio(1) men were around him. Servants collected back the armor and weapons, the doctor checked his condition and treated his wounds, someone offered him water. None of them spoke, none of them congratulated him: the show had to go on and soon enough there would be another gladiator to take care of.

Despite being a slave, Deuce had some freedom so, as soon as the doctor was finished with him, he returned back to the gallery, instead of going to _Ludus Magnus_ , the house of the gladiators.

Ace was next on the line for the game and he didn’t want to miss his match.

Despite Ace had never said anything out loud, Deuce – as everyone else of their comrades – knew they were the reason Ace ended up a slave in the first place. Because of their weakness on the day they had fought back to protect a village in Tracia. Ace had come to their rescue alone.

And despite that, Ace still insisted that, he, someway, would manage to save them, that they would get out of the arena together. That he would become so great, so famous, that the Emperor himself would grace him of the _rudis_ (2), so he would be a free man and then he could pay for their freedom too. “You only have to survive in the arena,” Ace said, “and I’ll do the rest.”

Sometimes, Deuce hated Ace for being so selfless as a friend. Sometimes, he still hated himself for hanging out at that hope.

He reached the underground below the senators and nobles’ gallery, a place where it was possible to observe the arena in a pretty good way. Most of the _Lanista_ (3) were there, including Deuce’s. They bet between themselves about their gladiators, but at the end, winning or losing didn’t matter to them. They were already paid.

The music was still loud, which meant the fight was still going on. Deuce’s idea was to make himself invisible, but Doflamingo was too cunning, too smart, too attentive. He spotted Deuce as soon as he entered the area and he grabbed him, putting his arms around Deuce’s shoulders.

“Great job, Deuce!” He cheered, with that ambiguous smile of his. “Heh, none of my athletes lost today, amazing.” The last sentence was addressed to the other Lanistae, who pretended to not notice.

“Thank you, _Lanista_.” Deuce nodded. Despite his friendly approach, everyone knew Doflamingo considered part of his _Familia_ only the gladiators that were free men. Slaves or prisoners were just a tool, a way to gain money. Nor that Deuce cared: all _Lanistae_ were like that.

“You’re here to see our champion, aren’t you?” Doflamingo continued. “Enjoy the show. This time will be a good one.”

There was a hint of malice in the last part, but Deuce didn’t pay attention. The only thing that mattered to him was for Doflamingo to let him watch the show.

Suddenly, the music became frantic, so Deuce understood the match was reaching his climax. He hurried at the small split and, from the distance, he saw Ace while he plunged his sword inside his opponent’s chest. Deuce sighed: they were able to live another day.

But his relief expired soon, as he saw the referee stopping Ace from leaving the arena and no one came to collect the body of the defeated. Instead, another gladiator was lifted to the ground and introduced to the audience. The crowd applauded him, but Deuce’s attention wasn’t on the arena anymore.

He turned to Doflamingo, mouth half-opened, but he didn’t manage to speak as he saw the smirk on his face. He swallowed.

“What does this mean, _Lanista_?”

“Just making the show a little bit more interesting,” Doflamingo answered, shrugging.

“You told Ace was your best athlete.” Deuce’s throat was dry. “And now you’re condemning him to death.” Ace was strong, but nobody was so strong to survive to more than one match in the arena. The record was three, it happened only once, and the winner still died because the wounds he received.

“My, my, don’t look at me like that.” Doflamingo chuckled. “It’s not my fault Ace’s good. The echo of his victories anticipated him in Rome and I was asked from the _Editor_ (4) himself to prepare something special just for him.”

“You shouldn’t have accepted the deal.”

“He paid me ten times the price I asked to rent Ace, so of course I accepted.” Doflamingo didn’t mind Deuce’s insolence, or at least he didn’t show being bothered by it. “For all I know, Ace could have lost the first match, ruling out any other future profit for me. Do not forget, your life has only a monetary value. Plus…” Doflamingo stood up from his chair, so he could come next to Deuce and whispered to him. “…Ace was aware of it. I promised him the Editor would chose the easier opponent for you all.”

Deuce stood there, paralyzed. It couldn’t happen again. Ace couldn’t sacrifice his life for them again.

Doflamingo sat back and smirked. “Like I said, enjoy the show.”

***

“Enough!”

Of course, Sabo’s plead was unheard in the chaos of the cheers, but it came directly from the pit of his stomach.

Discovering Ace, his brother, had become a slave instead of being a free man, exploring around the world as he had left him years ago, and a gladiator moreover, was bad enough. Now he had to watch him fighting until exhaustion, leading to a more than certain death.

 _Samnes, gallus, retiarius, oplomachus_ (5). Ace had already defeated each kind of gladiator a spectator could see in the arena, but they didn’t stop. Every time they gave Ace just a few minutes to recover his breath, just the time needed for the introduction of the new opponent. They didn’t clean the ground from the bodies, which was itself a huge expectation of rules. At that rate, it was a matter of when Ace would die, instead of “if”.

“Don’t ruin the fun, brother.” Stelly wore a satisfied smile, as he moved his arm to evidence the crown. “Look how much they’re enjoying it. He’s their hero.”

“Yeah, I can almost see how much they will enjoy his death.” Sabo was familiar with the way the audience thought. They liked blood more than they liked the person they were cheering for. But then he captured the tone Stelly had used, and he turned to observe him. “You had something to do with it, haven’t you?”

“Me?” Stelly placed the hand on his chest, assuming an innocent expression. “You know father wouldn’t have anyone interfere with his groundwork, especially since these games are for the Emperor.”

“Come on, you know Father won’t deny you anything.”

“True.” There was proudness in the smile Stelly had on his face. “Still, this time it’s not my doing.”

“But you know something.” Sabo looked around with the corner of his eye and noticed that his father wasn’t watching them, before leaning dangerously near Stelly. He could be the favorite, but Sabo was still the strongest and, no matter what, Stelly was scared of their physical difference, even if he put a brave face. “Spit it out.”

“What, do you really think our father wouldn’t realize this athlete, this champion, is one of the two rascal you used to have around as a child?” Stelly said, coating every word with sugar. “He was so happy when they left Rome, so they couldn’t lure you out anymore, and then one of them is back. But this time he can get rid of him and even get praise for it.”

As Stelly spoke, Sabo brought his attention back to the arena, where Ace was fighting with one gladiator twice bigger than him. Sabo had recognized Ace from the first moment he had saw him in an arena, back in Sicily, where he and his family were attending other games. He hadn’t managed to speak with him, but he was sure he had hidden well enough his surprise. Apparently, he didn’t.

“If he would have been a normal athlete, his life would be already safe after the first match. But he was your friend, so… It’s like you’re the one killing him,” Stelly concluded.

“How dare you…!” Sabo was about to attack him, when a scream lured his gaze back on the arena.  
Ace was lifted the body of his opponent, who had fallen upon him while he died. He threw it on the ground, then with a kick he moved outside the ring marked on the ground for the battle of the gladiators. Then he turned his entire body to the Emperor’s gallery, the arm that kept the sword raised in the air. Blood dripped from the blade on Ace’s shoulder, mixing together with the sand, the sweat and the blood Ace was already covered with.

“Someone else?!” he shouted, trying to stand above the crowd’s yells.

“Yes. Me.”

Before Stelly had a change to stop him, Sabo had already jumped on the railing and, from there, to the wall that protected the spectators, to land on the sandy ground. The crown stopped shouting, but Sabo could hear their blabbering as he walked towards Ace, who had lowered the blade and he looked at him surprised.

“Something wrong?” Sabo smiled at the referee.

“This is highly irregular…”

“I’m okay with it.” He looked around and identified the body of the retiarius: he bowed down and grabbed his trident, his shield and the part of his armor that covered the arms. He freed himself from the tunic as he armed himself.

“Okay, I’m stopping this right now,” the referee said, as he made signal to the guards, but Sabo anticipated him rushing forward Ace, who blocked the blow with his own shield, already full of crack.

“…Sabo?” He whispered trough the cracked lips. He was so shocked, the blade remained still at his side.

Sabo smirked. “So you didn’t forget about me.” He kicked Ace on the side and that put back some sense in him, because in a second Ace moved the shield, almost disarming Sabo, who was good enough to step back and maintaining a firm grip on his trident.

“Like I could.” Ace breathed hard and Sabo gave him few second to recover, before attacking again. This time, Ace’s blade clashed with the other’s shield. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving your ass,” Sabo replied, as he smashed the trident against Ace’s shield uselessly. “Your only way out from here is asking for mercy and no one else but me can beat you without killing you.”

“You can’t beat me.” There was a happy smile on Ace’s face despite his fatigue, while he moved aside Sabo’s trident and voluntarily missed Sabo’s chest with the point of the blade.

“We were twenty-six to twenty-four back then and now you can’t last more.”

Ace tripped on Sabo’s leg, but he was fast to put the hand on the ground and jump back still. He attacked again. “Coward,” he teased him.

Despite their situation, Sabo understood that Ace felt the same as him. The memory of when they had been children and they had fought together to become stronger, when dreaming about leaving Rome to explore the world outside the empire. Now Ace was a slave and Sabo was still prisoner in his noble’s life.

He trapped Ace’s naked foot with his trident, then gripped his wrist to avoid him to attack again. “I thought you left Rome to become a merchant. What happened?”

“It’s a long story.” Ace diverted his gaze for a second, while his arm fought to break free. “Luffy?” he asked, with a gulp.

“He’s fine. Last time I checked, he was in Egypt with his group of comrades, aiming for the Niles’ spring.”

“I’m glad.”

There was a smile on Ace’s face. A warm, sweet one that Sabo was scared he wouldn’t be able to see again. He lifted his legs and at the same time his trident, then kicked Ace on the chest. Ace tripped back, and Sabo took the chance to make him fall. Then he threw the trident, feeling the gasp of the audience who usually anticipated a kill.

But not this time. Sabo smirked: two points of the trident trapped Ace’s neck on the ground, but he was safe, still alive. His chest moved fast, so Sabo bend down and placed and hand on it, feeling his beating heart.

“I’m not sure I will be able to stand again,” Ace whispered.

“Not even to beg for _missio_ (6)?”

“If I ask for it and they’ll chose death instead,” Ace panted, “you will have to kill me.”

“If they dare, they will have to kill me first, but not before I will take most of their lives.”

“Sabo…”

But he shook his head, his eyes watery. “Please, do not make this more difficult than it already is.”

Ace slowly nodded, so Sabo stood back; but before removing the trident, he made sure there was no weapons around Ace could use to kill himself. He could trust his brother his life and that was the reason he had to make sure Ace wasn’t going to sacrifice himself. Then Ace knelt down, hands behind his back and waited for the crown to decide his destiny.

Sabo was turned towards the emperor’s gallery, as to dare him to pronounce a death sentence. But the excitation of the fight was wearing down and Sabo could hear again the yells of the crown, all asking for him to spare Ace. Something he was happy to oblige. He leaned a hand that Ace used to stand up. Sabo supported him as they walked forwards.

“Listen…” Ace whispered.

“Don’t talk. You’re alive. We have time.”

Ace shook his head. “I’m a slave. My Lanista bought me to fight in the arena. It will be hard to see each other again. Just… Will you tell Luffy…”

“I’ll find a way. No, better, you’ll find a way to get out of here and then you can tell him by yourself.”

“…Thank you.” Ace bit his lips and, with the last forces he had in his body, he gripped Sabo’s shoulder. That gesture alone was enough for Sabo to understand how much Ace was happy to have seen him again. He reciprocated the feeling.

Sabo wanted to know everything, about what Ace had done after leaving Rome and how he ended up as a slave in the arena, but their time was limited for now. They reached the gallery and Sabo restrained himself to smile at his father’s outrageous expression. Luckily for them, Adriano looked amused.

“I’ve heard the heir of the Outlook _Gens_ (7) was a crazy one, but that was definitely over the top.” But then he threw them two olive branch and the two brothers could finally leave the ground through the door of victory.

***

A big hand grabbed Marco for the shoulder, effectively dragging him behind.

“Where are you going, son? The night is young.”

“But you are not, Pops,” Marco replied, faking annoyance, as he freed himself from the grip.

“Ouch, son, that’s not nice.” There was a giant grin on Edward Newgate, one of the most eminent men of the Roman Empire, which made him look childish. “Plus, I definitely cannot sleep after today’s show, can I? Iupiter, I feel young again!”

Marco raised an eyebrow, but there was a small twitch at the corner of his lips. Still, he didn’t miss the time he had been in the arena one little bit. “Good for you,” he commented.

“You’re ruining the fun,” Edward commented. “At least let me thank you our _Editor_ for the show.” And he nodded at the crown of nobles who was surrounding Outlook and his family. The Emperor had already left, but there was no doubt he had enjoyed the games and now Outlook, as responsible of them, was the most admired and envied of Rome at the moment.

“You know, Pops, he doesn’t like you,” Marco said. Outlook was a member of one of the older Gens, that kind of person who didn’t like businessmen, people who had arisen at the top position because of their work and not their blood.

Still, Marco himself looked at the crown, but his attention was lured by the first son of the Outlook Gens. There was no doubt in his mind that Sabo hadn’t intervened in the arena just for fun and Marco was curious to find the real reason, but probably that wasn’t the best moment to go and ask, seeing how much Sabo was avoiding the conversation.

Never mind. Marco had already made his decision about the question.

“Well, of course I’ll do it more to annoy him than everything.” Edward nodded, with an amused smile. “And I need to kill time while you go and get the boy.”

Marco blinked. He hadn’t stated his wish to his adopted father, yet.

Edward laughed. “Come on, son, you weren’t subtle about it. And I agreed with you, so hurry before someone else has your same idea.”

Marco smiled. No matter how many years had passed, he still couldn’t hide a thing from Edward.

He nodded, then waited for him to join Outlook’s multitude, before leaving the Anfiteatro Flavio. He aimed towards the Ludus Magnus, which was the nearest gladiator house, hoping it would be his first and last destination. He knew most of the attendant that worked there, so he managed to pass into and ask about the Lanista of the gladiator surnamed Fire Fist.

He wasn’t surprised to discover he was Doflamingo. Now that the games where mostly organized by the emperor or his supporter, the job as Lanista wasn’t profitable anymore but for those who were exceptionally good in finding great men for the show. And Doflamingo, among them, was the best.

“I apologize for disturbing you,” Marco said, as he entered in the dining room, where Doflamingo and a couple of his men were celebrating.

“Marco! What an honor!” Doflamingo did well hiding his surprise for the visit and hurried to make someone bring a triclinium for Marco. “Still missing the arena?”

“Not really,” Marco replied, but he sat down and accepted the glass of wine he was offered to him. “I’m here for business though.”

“I’m listening.”

“That gladiator… Fire Fist. He is a free man? Or he is a slave?”

Doflamingo observed Marco for a long minute. “He’s a slave. Bought him from a pack coming from Tracia.” He smiled. “Pretty impressive, eh? And I didn’t believe the seller when he told me taking twelve Roman soldiers to take him down…”

“I want to buy him.” Marco cut his blabbering.

“You want to buy one of my best athletes?” Doflamingo transformed his surprise into a marvelous smirk, as he leaned towards Marco. “Are you interested in getting back to the arena as a _Lanista_?”

“No,” Marco answered. “But I’m interested.”

Doflamingo’s smirk grow bigger. After all, Marco’s preferences were talked enough in Rome. “You know, he’s one of my best athletes and after today’s show I can rent him for a lot of money at the next games…”

“Name your price,” Marco stated.

“Hundred thousand _denarios_ , plus a portion of the land you have in Sicily… Let’s say… Two _jugeros_ (8).”

It was a crazy amount for a simple slave, and at least ten time more Doflamingo could hope to gain from him as a gladiator, but Marco didn’t flinch. “Can I choose the portion of the land?”

“I trust your judgment,” Doflaming answered, accommodating.

“Fine, then. Prepare the contract. You’ll receive the money tomorrow before lunch, alongside with the contract for the land. I’m taking Fire Fist with me now.”

“It doesn’t look so fair for me,” Doflamingo commented.

“Oh, are you insinuating the Newgate Gens would not respect the agreement?” Marco asked, a smart smile on his face.

“Of course not. I’m just curious about this hurry. After all, Ace’s resting right now and…”

Ace. So that was the real name of the gladiator.

“I want him checked by one of my doctors,” Marco explained. “Oh, I know the doctor here are some of the best,” he added, forecasting Doflamingo’s objection. “Still, I’ll feel safer about my good with another opinion.”

“Okay, then,” Doflamingo agreed, but with a small snort. “Trebol, prepare the contract. Diamante, go get Ace ready,” he ordered his men.

Marco indulged in the glass of wine as he watched Trebol wrote down all the information, but he didn’t manage to finish his work than they heard a commotion coming from the inside. Doflamingo recognized Diamante’s voice and rushed to the direction of the sound. Marco shot a glare to Trebol, then he got up. Since nobody told him not to do, he reached the inside of the Ludus Magnus, in the inner portico where the dorm of the gladiator was.

He stopped next to Doflamingo to look at was what happening. Diamante was on the ground, a hand pressed on his bleeding arm. Ace was a meter away, the sword he’d stolen from Diamante in his hand, pointed in front of him. Behind him, three man were backing him up, even if they looked concerned.

The other gladiators, alongside with the attendants, observed the situation by far, but none of them called for help. What happened with Spartacus was legendary, but Doflamingo had a hand raised in front of him, showing he had the situation under control. And Marco understood why: Ace’s legs were trembling, and his body was covered in red stained bandages. It was improbable he would be able to bear a fight for longer.

“Ace, my boy, please be reasonable,” Doflamingo said. He sounded annoyed.

Ace shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”

One of the man behind him placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ace…”

“No,” he hissed. “I promised you.”

Doflamingo rolled his eyes. “I’m tired of it.”

He jumped forward and avoided Ace’s blow, then he grabbed his wrist and at the same time he kicked his legs. Ace lost his balance, so Doflamingo managed to let him drop the sword. He pushed Ace on the ground and forced both of his arms on his back.

“Give me a rope,” Doflamingo ordered to no particular one, but he was satisfied as someone threw him the rope that he consequently used to tie up Ace’s wrists, back and neck, so struggling would result in suffocating him.

The sword was still on the ground and one of the men with Ace was about to collect it, but Doflamingo was faster to move it with a kick. “I’ll deal with you three later.” he hissed.

“No!” Ace yelled, then coughed because of the rope that squeezed his neck.

Only when Doflamingo rose up, forcing Ace in a stand position again, he noticed Marco was there.

“Will you still buy him, right?” he asked.

Marco’s attention was focused on the three men, whose gazes passed from Ace to Doflamingo to themselves, as they were deciding if the best course of action was to obey or to risk everything only for taking Ace back.

“Who are they?”

There was no way Marco didn’t remember them as some of the gladiator that had won the fight in the afternoon, so Doflamingo was smart enough to answer: “I bought them as a pack together with Ace.” He smirked. “I was told he got capture trying to save them, so they’re basically just a burden. But don’t worry-”

“How much for them?”

Doflamingo blinked. “You want them too? Do you want to ruin my business?”

“You said they’re a pack,” Marco replied. His gaze was now of Ace, his sealed lips and his grey eyes fired up. He was breathing hard, but not struggling anymore.

“Five hundred thousand dupondios for each,” Doflamingo stated. Again, it was an amount higher than the normal price and the men knew it, Marco could tell from their expression.

“Fine,” Marco said. “Will you please come to my house tomorrow morning? We’ll settle everything there, but now it’s late.”

He gentle grabbed Ace’s arm and moved him from Doflamingo. He pushed him forward: Ace tripped and one of the men hurried to support him. “My house it’s not near here and I’m not sure he can walk until then, so you are responsible for him. Let’s go.”

***

The first thing Ace noticed when he woke up, was that there weren’t any more chains at his wrists holding him back. Now they were covered by clean bandages. He brushed them as he recalled the events of the day before. His fights in the arena, Sabo and, at the end, that man who had bought him and the others. Ace wasn’t sure if their situation got better or worse.

“You’re awake.”

“Deuce…” Ace murmured, lifting a bit his head to look at the door.

“How are you feeling?”

Despite all of his pain, Ace smiled. “I’m fine.”

Deuce sat down to the bed next to him and gripped his arm. Ace knew him well enough and anticipated he was about to scold him, so he turned his head from him and observed the surrounding. It was a small room, lighted only by the open door, with a couple of bed. The dorm of the servant’s quartier, Ace guessed.

“It was reckless attacking the Lanista, you’re right,” he anticipated Deuce’s telling-off. “But I couldn’t just leave you behind, and it all worked in the end.”

Deuce sighed. “We’re sick of holding you down and what you did-”

“You’re not holding me down!” Ace sat down on the bed and beard a groan of pain for the sudden move. “I promised we’ll get out together, so I’ll do everything to fulfill that promise.”

“Together includes you too.”

Before Ace could replied again, Saber and Miharu reached them. “Ace! You’re awake! Man, you slept for almost a day! Are you hungry? I’ll get you something!” And with that, Saber was off, but his intrusion was enough to avoid Deuce’s scolding to continue.

Ace settled himself better on the bed and recalled again the events of the evening. Miharu brought him on his shoulder, because Ace was too tired to walk again, which meant the house they were was far from the Anfiteatro Flavio. He remembered someone checked him and changed his bandages, then he had drunken something that had relaxed him…

Saber returned back with a plate that offered him. Ace looked at the food. “Is that meat?”

“Yeah…” Saber smiled. “It’s cold because the fire isn’t ready yet and they’re remains of the lunch but-”

Ace didn’t mind, he didn’t have meat in months, so he grabbed as much as he could and stuffed his mouth before starting chewing. Saber joined Miharu, who had sat down on the other bed, and the two of them alongside with Deuce remained silent as Ace ate.

“Better,” Ace admitted once he finished.

Slowly, he passed his gaze on his comrades, trying to read their expression. Was he the only one worried?

“Do you get offended if I judge five hundred thousand excessive prices, even for you?” he asked.

“No, you’re right,” Saber said unwilling.

“Wonder how much Doflamingo asked for you, Ace,” Deuce added.

Ace nodded: he asked himself the same thing. “And we all agree he took you too because he wanted me?”

Again, he received a unanimous answer. “Yes.”

“So, my question here is: what should we expect now? You woke up before me, do you have any inch?”

Deuce shook his head. “Nobody told us nothing. We meet some of the other servants, but that’s all.”

Miharu sighed. “Do you know who that man is?”

“No. But you do.” There was an accusatory tone in Deuce’s voice, meaning he was displeased Miharu waited before informing them.

“I suppose you all heard of Edward Newgate,” Miharu began. He received positive nodding, so he continued, “the man who bought us is Marco, his right-hand man. He’s a _Liberto_ (9), which means he can never aspire at higher positions, but his influence and his property are too much important to be ignored.”

“A Liberto, huh.” Saber murmured. “Maybe it’ll treat us better because he knew how to be a slave is?”

“I won’t be too much optimistic about it,” Deuce replied.

“He was kind enough to not separate us.”

“Nobody spent so much money only to be kind.”

“There’s another thing,” Miharu intervened. “There are some rumors… They say Marco has the same taste as Emperor Adriano when it comes for young men.”

Immediately, Deuce and Saber’s gaze was on Ace, who scoffed. “What?” he commented. “I’m nothing like Antinoo(10), and he was much younger than me when the emperor took him.”

“You’re right, still…”

Ace understood Deuce’s worries. Nobody was that kind, so there was no doubt in his mind Marco wanted something from him. That was okay: no chains anymore meant a second change of escaping, the second after the first failure that made him spend his free time tied up in his dorm and forcing him to subdue at the gladiators’ rules.

For Ace, it was a victory.

A woman overlooked from the door. “Oh, I saw you liked the food.” She smiled, nodding at Ace’s empty plate. “If you feel better, my master would like to see you in his office.”

“Oh, well.” Ace shrugged, as he slowly stood up. “Looks like we’ll find out soon enough,” he commented at the others.

“Yeah, but just to be sure I advise you to put something on,” Miharu nodded at Ace’s body, only covered by bandages, and lend him a tunic.

Ace dressed himself, then asked the woman, “Will you show me the way?”

“Sure.”

So Ace followed her towards the servants’ quarter to the main wing of the house. It was a huge building, with fine decoration and full of statues. For what Ace remembered, it could compete with Sabo’s house. Marco’s office was no exception: Ace saw the ceiling and the wall depicted with the myth of Prometheus.

“Ace is here, master,” the woman introduced him, before leaving the room.

“Thank you,” Marco commented, but he didn’t lift his head until he finished writing his document.

Ace remained still near the door, looking around, until he felt observed. Marco had put the document aside and his gaze was passed through Ace’s body. Ace frowned: there was something different from the gaze of the people he bought him in the past, but he couldn’t catch what.

“How are you feeling?” Marco asked. His tone was gentle, different from the commanding he had used with Doflamingo. And Ace was taken aback from a question he didn’t expect.

“Still painful, but better,” he answered, honest.

“Good. The doctor told me your wounds are superficial, it’s the fatigue that wore you down. He suggested at least other two days of rest and I agree with him.” Marco smiled. “Take a sit, please.” He pointed with his hand at the chair in front of the desk.

Ace sat down, perplexed. He didn’t understand Marco, not his motive, but for now he didn’t act in any way to damage Ace, so Ace could give him a chance.

“Yesterday… I hope you didn’t mistake what happened,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Marco asked.

“My only loyal belong with my comrades, not with my Lanista, neither I’m so adamant in my career on the arena. I can’t go and let them there.”

“That was pretty clear.” Marco smiled.

“Which means I’ll do everything to protect them,” Ace continued. “Everything.” If Marco had any idea of using them to reach Ace, that settled it, thought he was the only way for Ace to state his position.

Marco was unfazed by the declaration. “Everything?” He smirked, as he leaned forward, his gaze on Ace’s lips. “Even sleep with me?”

Oh, so Miharu was right. Ace’s cheek burned, as he thought about how he felt about it and how respond to it. But before he could actually answer, Marco burst out laughing and returned back to his seat.

“And here I thought you couldn’t become any more interesting.”

Ace blushed even more and gritted his teeth, angry at himself for having let a weakness showing. “Wow, and here I thought you weren’t a jerk,” he spat.

Marco laughed again, then he took a long breath to calm himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, I was just testing you.”

“Okay…?” Ace blinked: did that man – a slave owner – just apologize to him? “Still, I’m relieved you don’t want to sleep with me,” he added, with prudence.

“Oh, no, I never said that,” Marco replied, a tiny smile on his face. “But I didn’t buy you for it.”

Nails pressed again Ace’s palm, to avoid him to blush again. “Then why?” He gritted.

“Because I believe you deserve more than to end up killed in the arena or, in the best-case scenario, a man condemned to remain forever in that world.” He took one of the scrolls and a small bag that, from the sound it made, was full of coins.

“What is it?” Ace asked, when Marco placed them on the desk in front of him.

“A _Manumissio_ (11).”

“What?” Ace was speechless.

“I’m not kicking you out.” Marco explained. “I have a job for you, of course, but accept it depends from you. The _sesterzii_ in the bag should be enough to rent a small apartment in quartier like Suburra(12), if you’d prefer to leave.”

“What about my comrades?”

Marco just nodded with his head at the other three scroll and three small bags on the desk.

“This is bullshit!” Ace jumped and slammed the hands down. “You spent a huge amount of money just to let us go?”

“Yes.”

Ace breathed hard, unable to formulate a thought that made sense at everything. “Fine, as you wish,” he spat. He grabbed the scroll and the bags and headed for the door, knocked over the chair on the ground in the process.

But before he could reach the exit, Marco spoke, “Do you know I fought in the arena, back in the past?”

“I was told you were a slave,” Ace replied. He faced Marco with his back, but he stopped.

“I was,” Marco confirmed. “Nine victories in the arena, before a man came and bought me. And he freed me, as I did with you.”

Ace turned a little the head. “Edward Newgate?”

“Yes,” Marco confirmed. “He’s the best man I’ve ever met. He is like a father to me and all what I did, I did for him. In all these years, I’d like to become a man like him. He saw something in me and he saved me. Now, I’m seeing something in you. So that’s it.”

“I don’t need a father,” Ace murmured, his fingers playing with the coins in the bag, that he kept against his chest.

“That’s good, because otherwise it can be embarrassing the day we’ll sleep together.”

Ace flinched. Marco really got his nerve. “We’ll not sleep together. Maybe you should have thought better before giving me this.” And the bag jingled in his hand.

“I’m fine with it.” Marco smiled. “When you buy a slave, you got a body, and that’s not what I’m interesting it.” He tapped his fingers on the wooden desk. “I have a proposal for you. Do you like to hear it?”

“…I’m listening,” Ace said. He faced Marco now, but he didn’t sit down.

“A certain someone told me you’re a fan of chariot races.”

“Sabo.” He and Luffy were the only people who knew that – Ace had never told Deuce and the other about that dream of his, the dream that was shattered once his father was accused of treason. “Did you meet him?”

“I just know he had an important reason to rush in the arena to save you, and I was curious about it,” Marco explained. “My mind was already made by then, what he told me confirmed I’m right about you.”

Ace sighed. “That idiot.”

“He wants to help you.” Marco chuckled. “I’m pretty sure he would’ve attacked this house to free you if I hadn’t told him my intentions.”

At that comment, Ace couldn’t hide a smile, because Marco was right and because Ace had done the same for Sabo many times when they had been child.

“It was an old dream,” he murmured, at least. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Well, that’s too bad, because my father – Edward Newgate – is the owner of one of the chariot races team and we can use a new racer.” Marco returned to write down something, not looking at Ace anymore. “Will you call the others for me, please? I’ll give the Manumissio to them too.”

Ace gritted his teeth. A part of him, a big one he had closed inside his heart since he was captured, was screaming about the opportunity Marco was giving him, and his mind already played with it, remembering the time his mother had brought him to the race. The other one was too scared to open up to someone else, to open up to Marco, a man he already owned so much.

So he answered, “Sure,” and he opened the door.

“Ace,” Marco called him another time. His expression was softer, no more trace of cockiness anymore. “I really hope you’ll decide to stay. But if you don’t, I will understand, and I’ll wish you good luck.”

And with that, Ace had no choice but smile. “I will think about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary:
> 
> 1\. Anfiteatro Flavio: Ancient Name of the Colosseum  
> 2\. Rudis: a symbolic gesture who give freedom to the gladiators (actually, it works only for gladiators that chose that life, not slaves)  
> 3\. Lanista/ae: master and owner of the gladiators  
> 4\. Editor: organizer of the gladiator’s matches (among other games), usually the Emperor or someone from the noble families  
> 5\. Gladiators have different kinds of fighting style, armies and armors; they’re identified most of the time by regions’ names  
> 6\. Missio: if the gladiator isn’t killing during the game, he can ask for mercy to the audience; if he fought well, he could be spared  
> 7\. Gens: Family  
> 8\. Jugerum/os: Roman unit of Area (around 28.800 feet)  
> 9\. Liberto: a freed slave  
> 10\. Antinoo: Emperor’s Adriano’s lover, he was still a boy when he died  
> 11\. Manumissio: the document that frees slaves  
> 12\. Suburra: quartier of Rome, where the poor lives


End file.
